When my brother and I were little,
We used to go fishing with Dad,
Who didn't allow us to wander,
So there wasn't much fun to be had.
But we noted a boxful of squirming,
And the old tartan rug we had brought.
We decided to try racing maggots.
Thus developed our own unique sport.
The "track" was a red square of blanket.
A white line was where to begin.
A thicker green stripe was the finish,
And the first one to reach it would win.
We picked out our chosen contestants,
Then discovered our plan had a flaw:
We cheered and we shouted instructions,
Which the creatures would always ignore.
Though these larvae were not always helpful,
We persisted and collected some data,
The yellow ones seemed to be faster,
But the pink ones would wiggle much straighter.